No Such thing as a Free Meal
by Lana Coombe
Summary: Another of my older stories unavailable elsewhere on the web. Kid's life is threatened after an act of kindness. Will Heyes be able to help him in time? Inspired by the Clint Eastwood film 'Beguiled'.


No Such Thing as a Free Meal

With one deft movement of his thumb, Hannibal Heyes flicked open his pocket watch. The larger hand hadn't moved much since the last time he'd glanced at the face, but it did mean that the Kid was a little later than the previous time he'd checked. Snapping the lid closed, he slipped the watch back into his vest pocket and gave a cursory glance up and down the street but there was still no familiar rider in sight.

It wasn't as if the Kid was that late, only half an hour really. It was just, it was past lunchtime and Heyes was beginning to feel a little peckish. Ordinarily Heyes wouldn't be unduly concerned but his partner had been gone for over two hours now and it was unlike him to be late for any meal, if it could possibly be avoided.

Gingerly, he shifted position in the wooden chair in which he sat and stretched his aching back. They had come to Bedlington five days previously, after finishing a job on a cattle ranch. Heyes had taken a tumble from his horse a couple of days before the job was finished. It hadn't been a bad fall but he had refused to rest, wanting to get paid in full. The injury he had sustained had been aggravated to the point where he had difficulty walking, let alone riding. Since he and Curry were in funds for a change they had agreed to rest up, allowing Heyes' back to recuperate. A few sessions at the poker tables had increased their finances to a point which made them feel they could be a little decadent, for a short while. They had ensconced themselves in a pleasant room, overlooking the main street, in a quiet hotel, with a decent restaurant.

After a couple days, with Heyes unable to do much more than sit around and play poker, the Kid had become a little restless. To pass the time, he'd taken himself off in the mornings, to exercise their horses and indulge in a little target practice at a secluded spot he had found, out of town. In the meantime, Heyes rested on the hotel porch, watching the world go by, until his partner returned, when they usually retired to the saloon for a spot of liquid lunch. This had become their regular routine and both had fallen into it comfortably.

However, this particular day was different - the Kid wasn't back from his ride. At first Heyes was a little irritated, then he became more aggravated, as his rumbling stomach joined him in his annoyance. When there was still no sign of the Kid, after he had enjoyed a steak for his lunch, Heyes began to get anxious. A glance at his watch told him it was now two o'clock. His partner had been gone for nearly four hours. The usual concerns began to threaten - had he fallen from his horse, been snake bit, been taken by a bounty hunter or worse? Heyes could only wonder and with each thought, his anxiety grew.

After another half an hour, he could bear it no more. Placing his battered black hat on the back of his head, he began to make his way stiffly towards the livery stable. All was quiet inside the barn, save for the soft chomping of horse molars on fresh hay. There was no one about so Heyes had to saddle his horse himself - no small feat when you have an injured back. As he lifted the saddle upwards towards the horse's back, a sharp pain shot down his spine.

Cursing, through teeth gritted against the pain, he let the saddle fall. Stealing himself, he tried once more, grateful that his sorrel mare stood obligingly still while he got the saddle into position and tightened the cinch. With an audible groan, he finally managed to haul himself into the saddle. Riding out, he pondered what he would do to his partner if he found him sleeping under the shade of some leafy tree.

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Kid Curry had been enjoying a leisurely ride and was returning to town when he came across Martha Tate and her wagon. The rear, left wheel appeared to be firmly stuck in a deep rut at the side of the track. The Kid pulled up his horse alongside the wagon, touching the brim of his hat in greeting, as he did so.

"Ma'am," he said politely, looking down at the wheel thoughtfully. She responded with a curt nod of her head.

"Do you need some help, Ma'am?" he enquired, even though it was plainly obvious that she did.

After a moment's consideration, with a tight-lipped expression, she replied brusquely, "I would be grateful."

The Kid spent the next ten minutes or so, with his left shoulder pressed hard against the side of the wagon, while Martha encouraged her team of horses forward. Eventually the Kid pushed and the horses pulled simultaneously and the wagon rolled out of the rut.

Martha smiled gratefully, showing the Kid an all the more pleasant appearance than the hard faced countenance she had previously worn. Coyly she asked whether he would consider accompanying her back to her place, which wasn't far away, to help with the unloading of her provisions, as she feared she had strained her arm while pulling the horses. The Kid, being the considerate human being and consummate gentleman that he was, agreed. Hitching his horse to the back of the wagon, he sat alongside Martha and, taking the reins, followed her directions.

Her home was a simple wood built cabin, a little dilapidated in places, with worn timber and loose roof tiles. A few scrawny chickens strutted about and a skinny cow stood forlornly in a nearby corral. It was evident that Martha was not a wealthy woman. However, this did not stop her offering to make a meal for her rescuer. He knew that Heyes would be concerned at his lateness but the Kid felt he could not refuse this woman's kind offer and besides, he'd only be a little late. While he saw to the provisions, she busied herself preparing some stew.

Having finished unloading the supplies, the Kid sat at a table in Martha's cabin, looking around the sparsely furnished room. The varied collection of bottles and jars in the kitchen area intrigued him, as they seemed to be filled with an interesting array of contents.

Having his curiosity piqued by the home and circumstance of this quiet, reserved woman, he cagily asked, "You on your own here then, Ma'am?"

"Yes. My husband …" She paused a moment then gathered herself. "My husband died just over a year ago. Didn't leave me with much but I get by," she continued, sadly.

"How's that, Ma'am?" the Kid questioned, sympathetically.

"I make herbal tonics and such like, which I sell in town," she told him, gesturing towards the jars and bottles with an inclination of her head. "Never know whether folks buy them because they work or they just feel plain sorry for me!" she commented, with a weak smile.

"I'm sure it's because they do some good, Ma'am," the Kid told her kindly. "Perhaps you've got something for a friend of mine who's hurt his back?" he said light heartedly.

Martha stiffened at his comment, averting her eyes from his gaze as she placed a plate of stew in front of him. Perhaps she knew her potions weren't as beneficial as she purported them to be, the Kid guessed, as he picked up a fork in preparation to eat the provided meal.

It was an interesting stew. Not much meat, he noted but there was a plentiful amount of vegetable to bulk it, most ostensibly mushroom. On seeing him considering the plate of food, Martha said, "Don't have much in the way of meat, I'm afraid. I make do with what I can forage from the woods as I'm not too good at trapping and not much good with a gun neither."

The Kid noticed that she flushed at this admission, so kindly said, "Perhaps I can see if I can help you out there, Ma'am. I'm not a bad shot and there should be plenty of game about here."

Martha seemed to pale a little and looked on anxiously as he took his first bite. The Kid found it to be adequately tasty and realised just how hungry he had become, so tucked in enthusiastically. Martha continued to watch him intently. With a mouth full of food, he attempted a smile of reassurance. Jolted by his gesture, she turned away, apparently embarrassed to have been caught watching him so fervently.

After finishing the meal, having wiped the plate clean with the small amount of bread that had been provided, the Kid rose from the table. "Much obliged to you, Ma'am. That was real good."

Martha looked a little taken aback for a moment on seeing him prepare to leave. "Would you care to try some of my tea?" she asked tentatively.

"That's mighty kind of you but I ought to be getting back," he replied, reaching for his hat, which he had hung on the back of a chair.

"Please," she said, with more than a little urgency, "could I trouble you to bring in some fire wood before you go? My arm is still a little sore."

"Surely, Ma'am," came the reply. The Kid assumed that her reluctance to his leaving, was probably because she was a little lonely and possibly wanted some company for a while longer. The wood seemed to be an excuse, as there appeared to be a plentiful supply stacked next the fire already. He'd get her some wood but then he'd really have to leave and get back to town - and Heyes, who was probably getting a little lonely himself. The Kid smiled inwardly as he imagined his partner's sulky face at being left on his own for so long.

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Heyes was indeed wearing a petulant expression. With every step of his mare, his back complained, drawing his shoulders into the disagreement. He had been riding for about half an hour but still hadn't come across his partner and his mood began to sink with the sun. Even though his annoyance grew with each stride the horse took, the undeniable worry gnawed away at him as to the Kid's whereabouts.

Having diligently followed the Kid's preferred route, he began to sidetrack and it was only by sheer chance that his eye caught the deep indentations in the ground, by the side of the trail. There were no obvious clues but Heyes' instincts told him to follow the tracks. This was the only sign he'd had all day and there wasn't any better option.

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The Kid crossed the yard from the small outbuilding, back towards the house, his arms cradling a stack of wood. It was a warm day but he suddenly felt too hot and a fine sheen of perspiration appeared on his forehead, which seemed to instantaneously cool, making him inadvertently shiver. Just as he reached the couple of steps up to the cabin, a terrible pain gripped his chest, making him gasp for breath. He managed to stagger to the doorway, shouldering the door open and stumbled into the cabin. The room seemed to spin for a moment and his sight began to blur as the pain took a stronger hold, knocking the wind out of him. With another sharp intake of breath, Kid tried to regain control of his breathing, but suddenly his legs began to collapse beneath him. The logs, which he had been clutching, tumbled from his grasp onto the floor with a resounding crash, followed closely by Curry himself.

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Heyes had once told the Kid that he was the 'champeen tracker in the whole of Utah' and even if this wasn't true, it was almost impossible not to be able to follow the route the wagon had taken. At this point, however, Heyes could not be sure whether the Kid was with the wagon but he could find no other line of inquiry for now so continued to follow the tracks. Although his back still ached, the concern he was beginning to feel about his partner, distracted him from the pain as he doggedly continued on his way.

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The Kid wasn't sure exactly what had happened but as he slowly came round and his eyes began to focus, all he knew was he was lying on the floor, looking across the worn, wooden floorboards. He had no idea how long he'd been there but the pain had eased a little, although he still seemed to be having trouble breathing. In an effort to relieve the pressure he felt on his chest, he tried to move but his body would not respond. No matter how hard he attempted to move, no part of him would, not his hands and fingers or his legs and feet.

Lying prone on the floor, he became aware of someone else in the room. Martha! Her worn boots came into view, the Kid tried to look up at her but his gaze would only reach so far, and he couldn't turn his head. He tried to call out to her but the words would not come and stuck in his throat. Relief swept over him as she cautiously came closer and bent over him. He could see the concern in her face, however, she merely slipped the gun from his holster and swiftly stepped back, placing it on the table. He was further perturbed when she sat down on a chair, in clear view and simply stared at him but did nothing.

As he lay on the floor, there wasn't anything he could do but just try to keep breathing. Although the intense pain had eased, his chest still felt like it was being held in a vice. As he struggled for breath, he found himself gripped with fear and panic. He had no idea what was happening to him or why Martha wasn't doing something to help. All he could do was lie on the floor but it wasn't in his nature to be so acquiescent. The only thing he seemed able to do was control his breathing and, just as he did when faced by someone about to draw, he steadied himself and concentrated on slowing his breath, drawing the air through his nose and releasing out through his mouth. A calmness gradually came over him as he lay helplessly on the floor and waited.

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Pulling his horse to a stop, Heyes pondered the ground which had become hard and dry in this particular spot. Leaning forward on his saddle horn, he urged his horse onwards at a slow pace, trying to pick up the tracks. In a more shaded part of the road, where the sun had not dried the earth as much, a set of wagon tracks re-emerged in the mud. The wagon appeared to be pulled by a pair of horses but a third set of hoof prints could be seen between the wheel marks, as if a horse was tied behind the wagon. Encouraged by this sign, Heyes picked up the pace.

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Time slipped by and still Martha remained sitting and watching, rocking quietly in the chair, her hands clasped in her lap. Why didn't she help him? As the Kid pondered his situation he felt alarmed once again, his heart strained, and his chest tightened. His thoughts wandered to Heyes and how annoyed he must be at his lateness. He wondered whether his partner had eaten. Heyes' seeming disinterest in food worried him at times. The Kid concentrated on these mundane thoughts in an attempt to keep his mind occupied without dwelling on his present predicament, an inner instinct telling him to remain calm and lay low.

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Heyes had followed the tracks along the main trail until they diverted down a side path. A little ways down an incline, a small cabin came into sight. Heyes pulled his horse to a stop and scanned the area. There was no sign of the Kid so he decided to make enquiries at the cabin. Carefully he swung his leg over the back of the saddle and slowly lowered himself down, clenching his teeth as he did so, in anticipation of the pain. When both feet were firmly on the ground, he breathed a sigh of relief.

After hitching his horse to a post, he approached the shabby wooden door of the cabin and gave two sharp raps with his gloved knuckle. At first, there was no response so he tried again. Sure that he had heard movement inside, he called out, "Anyone here?" and was rewarded by the sound of a latch being released.

A woman, in her mid forties, poked her head around the partially open door. Heyes politely touched the brim of his hat.

"Pardon me, Ma'am, I'm looking for my partner and wondered if you'd seen anything of him?"

She looked at him with what appeared to be sheer terror. It crossed Heyes' mind that she looked a little deranged, with her wide, staring eyes and pinched mouth.

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The Kid had heard the horse approaching and once again tried to move but still his body refused to comply. The sound of boot heels on the wooden porch echoed about the cabin, raising his hope that help was close at hand. Martha had sat waiting anxiously in her chair. She flinched at the sound of the sharp rap and stared in trepidation, in the direction of the door. Taking a brief look at the man lying on the floor, she stood up, smoothed down her skirts and made her way to the door.

A wave of exultation swept over the Kid when he heard Heyes' familiar tones. He tried to call out but his throat constricted, only allowing a soft groan to be emitted. His joy, at knowing his partner had found him so quickly, turned to despair when he heard Martha say "No, I haven't" and close the door without Heyes entering. Panic rose within him again as the sound of the footsteps faded and he heard a saddle creaking, as a rider mounted. The Kid closed his eyes in dejection, willing Heyes to come back but all he could hear was retreating hoof steps.

The Kid gazed up at Martha pleadingly but she turned away and began to tidy the plate from which he had eaten the meal she had provided. It suddenly occurred to the Kid that he had started to feel unwell after he had eaten the stew but found it hard to believe that it had anything to do with the food. After many years on the trail, eating and drinking a variety of unsavoury foods, including Heyes' coffee, he considered he had the constitution of an ox and it would take more than a plate of stew to cause his present condition.

Lying here now, on the floor, he tried to keep his thoughts focussed, even though the paralysis still held him in its grip.

After all the danger he had faced in his life, robbing trains and banks, facing gunmen, the irony that a woman and a plate of food was to be his undoing, was not lost on Jed Curry! As Martha carefully placed the plate back on the cupboard shelf, she reflected on what she was doing. The first part of the plan had gone smoothly. It had been easy to drive the wagon off the road and into the rut. It had been more difficult sitting there waiting for him to ride by, hoping that he would stop and offer to help. He hadn't disappointed. It was a shame really, he was such a handsome man and so polite too. It was hard to believe that he was a notorious wanted outlaw, especially one with such a high price on his head. Ten thousand dollars! An amount like that would set her up for the rest of her life. It was too good an opportunity to miss! There was the other one to take into account now, for it was well known that Kid Curry always rode with his partner, Hannibal Heyes and she was sure it had been him who had knocked at her door, no more than ten minutes since. Twenty thousand dollars would ensure she could live the rest of her life in luxury. One thing at a time, she thought, no need to be greedy - for now. Ten thousand dollars was what she had planned to collect and she didn't want to jeopardise the chance by changing the plan.

She hadn't been sure if was him at first, that day in town, when she'd seen him strolling down the board walk, politely tipping his brown hat to a passing lady. Pretending to adjust the horse's harness, she had taken a longer look just to be sure it was the same man. The next day she had seen him out riding and was even more convinced of who he was. She'd gotten a brief look at him that day when he had boarded the train which had been bringing her to a new life with Reuben Tate. If only she'd known what the future had held for her then, she never would have boarded that train. But she had and, about half a day into her journey, it had been held up by the Devil's Hole Gang. It had been a fair haired, young man who had kept everyone calm and helped the passengers from the train, while the safe was being blown. She only came to know his identity when one of the gang members had called him 'Kid', telling him that he was needed by 'Heyes'. He had been a gentleman that day too. Such a shame, such a nice young man and now here he was, lying on her cabin floor, waiting for the mushrooms to take effect.

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Heyes was a little shocked when the woman shut the door in his face, although it did not come as a complete surprise. He paused a moment outside the door, considering what to do next. Stiffly, he walked back to his horse, hesitating a moment before arduously pulling himself back into the saddle. There was something about that woman which bothered him, he wasn't sure what but the way she'd looked at him had made him feel decidedly uncomfortable.

Seeing no reason as to why she would lie to him, he shook the thought from his head, gathered the reins and wheeled his horse round. He decided to head back up to the main trail and scout around a little more, having wasted too much time here already.

Just as he rounded the small outbuilding, his horse whickered softly. A return whinny came from inside. Heyes kept riding until he was out of sight of the cabin and then pulled his horse to a stop. Dismounting carefully, he stealthily made his way back. Peering through one of many cracks in the slatted wall, he could see a horse inside and, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realised that it was the Kid's dark, bay gelding.

Heyes drew back in astonishment, wincing as his afflicted back protested. It was obvious that the woman had been lying - it didn't take too nimble a brain to work that out! But where was Kid? Standing, with hands on hips, he contemplated his options for a moment. Taking his gun from his holster he checked to see it was loaded, though he didn't think he'd need to use it - at least, he hoped he wouldn't. Carefully he made his way back round and cautiously sidled back to the cabin.

With his back to the wall, gun in hand, he twisted to take a look through a window, ignoring his complaining back as other, more pressing, thoughts preoccupied his mind. Inside the gloomy cabin he could make out rows of jars and bottles on shelves and herbs hanging from the beams. Suddenly, the woman came into view and he slipped back from the window. After a few seconds he chanced another look, relieved to see that the woman was sitting in a chair, with her back to him. His attention was drawn to the table. There, in the middle, was a brown, floppy hat and a familiar Scofield gun.

At the sight of this further proof the Kid had been here, Heyes drew back again, tightening the grip on his gun, his jaw set. Was the woman on her own, he considered, or was there someone else inside the cabin? Either way, he'd have to chance it, if he was going to find out what had happened to his partner.

As quietly as possible, he skirted round to the door and gently wrapped his fingers about the latch. Softly he tried it and although it lifted, the door would not open. It was locked from the inside. He hesitated, listening but all was quiet. Heyes steeled himself for what he knew would be a painful action, as he stepped back and took his boot to the door with a swift, forceful kick. As the door flew open he let out a cry as a sharp stabbing sensation shot down his back, before lurching through the doorway.

At the sound of the forced entry, Martha jumped to her feet and spun round to be confronted by Heyes, his face twisted in what she perceived to be fury, but was in fact pain. Her shock and fear kept her rooted to the spot. Heyes quickly took the Kid's gun from the table and tucked it into his belt. Quickly scanning about, he gauged there to be no one other than the woman in the room. That was until he saw the figure lying on the floor.

In two steps he had crossed the room and gazed down at the prostrate body of his partner. At first he feared the worst but then saw Curry's eyes flicker. His attention momentarily totally taken by his partner's unknown condition, Heyes turned from the woman and went to his friend's aid. Squatting down, he gently placed a hand on the Kid's shoulder as he checked for any injuries but could find nothing obvious. The look in his eyes however told him something was incredibly wrong.

"What's happened to you?" Heyes prompted but he remained silent, staring back at him imploringly. Just then, the Kid's eyes widened and he looked beyond Heyes, over his shoulder, who immediately spun on his heel, to find Martha standing behind him, a large pan raised above her head, ready to strike him down. Heyes was instantly on his feet, grabbing the woman's wrist and wrenching the cooking utensil from her grip, flinging it to one side. Maintaining his firm grasp of her wrists, Heyes glared at Martha.

"What the hell you done to him?" he asked venomously.

Martha paled at his interrogation, her mouth gaping as she attempted to answer but she froze in fear. The ferocity of the man before her left no doubt that this must be Hannibal Heyes.

Heyes was beside himself with anger and fear by now and in desperation grabbed the woman's shoulders and began to shake her violently.

"I asked you a question!" he yelled, his eyes dark and threatening.

The woman began to sob uncontrollably, her body shaking in his hold. Realising he'd get nothing from her in this fearful state, Heyes quietened himself and pushed her down onto a chair and turned his attention back to his friend.

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

The Kid did not answer verbally but blinked his eyes in response.

"Did she do this to you?" came the next question. Another blink. Heyes kneeled on his right leg and pushed his hat back, his left arm resting on his bent leg. He was at a loss as to what was wrong with his partner. The woman knew the answer and he turned to her now.

"Look, it's obvious he needs help. I don't know what to do unless you tell me what you did to him."

Heyes was trying desperately to stay calm but his partner's state was frightening.

"Please! Give me some help here," Heyes continued, looking at the woman solemnly.

Still she did not respond but looked at him blankly. Heyes took off his hat and dropped it to the floor, running his fingers through his hair and he looked back at the Kid, pensively.

"Can you move at all?" No response. Just a blank stare.

"You hurting anywhere?" This time the Kid managed to close his eyes and exhale through his nose, showing Heyes his anxiety at his predicament. Seeing his friend in distress aggrieved Heyes and he rounded on the woman once again.

"Listen, lady, I don't know why you've done this to my friend but no one deserves this, you hear?" His voice rose as he gestured towards his inert partner with a sweep of his arm.

"I didn't …. I thought he'd be …. " Martha stared forlornly at the man on the floor and then adjusted her gaze back to Heyes. "It didn't take so long last time," she stated.

For a moment Heyes found himself at a loss for words, not quite believing what he was hearing.

"What do you mean 'last time'?" he asked, his dark brows furrowing as he glowered at her. Martha was taken aback as she realised her slip.

Not getting a response, Heyes persisted, "What is it you expected to happen? Ma'am, I need to know so I can help him."

The urgency that he was feeling showed in his face and he gently took her hand. In a low voice he continued, "Why can't he move? I can't see anything broken or nothing …. Ma'am?" Heyes pleaded.

"It's the nightshade … it causes paralysis," Martha stammered.

"Nightshade?" Heyes queried.

"I wanted to make sure he couldn't hurt me and …."

"Oh, I think you certainly managed that!" Heyes snapped. "How long does it last? What were you planning to do?"

"I didn't think it'd take this long. I thought …" Martha regarded the man on her floor, perplexed.

Heyes was getting exasperated at the lack of answers he was getting but at least she was talking. Keeping his temper in check, maintaining his composure he tried again. "Ma'am, what's taking so long? What was supposed to happen to him?"

"I thought I'd put enough mushrooms. It was the same amount I gave Reuben and he was dead within minutes."

"Dead?!" Heyes erupted. "Lady, what are you telling me? WHAT DID YOU DO?" He was near to screaming now.

Shocked by the dark haired man's sudden change of demeanour, Martha began to cry as the words tumbled from her mouth. "I didn't mean for him to suffer. It's never taken this long before. The nightshade was to keep him still while the mushrooms took effect. They should stop the heart in minutes and …"

"STOP THE HEART!" Heyes was standing now, dragging the woman to her feet from the chair. She stood limply in his hold, arms hung loosely by her side as he shook her again. "Why in God's name would you do that to him?" Heyes shouted.

"I wanted the reward!" she sobbed. "I saw him in town and knew who he was. That sort of money would get me out of this place. I could go back to my family with my pride in tact." Martha was trembling now and her body sagged as the tears ran down her face.

Heyes was stunned by her admission, struggling to come to terms with what he had heard.

Placing her back in the chair, Heyes crouched before her, looking up at her tear stained face.

"What's your name?" he asked flatly.

"Martha. Martha Tate," she replied.

"Well, Martha, just who do you think my friend is?" Heyes asked.

"He's Kid Curry," she replied.

"Noooo, he's not! This here on your floor is Thaddeus Jones. You've made a terrible mistake." Seeing a look of doubt creep into her face, Heyes persisted. "Now please, is there anything we can do to help him before this all ends badly? We need to put this right, Martha."

"But I saw him on the train that day. They called him 'Kid' and …"

"Ma'am, he's not the man you think he is," Heyes told her solemnly, more truth in his words than she could possibly know.

"He's not Kid Curry?" Martha asked lamely.

"No, Ma'am. He's my partner, Thaddeus Jones."

"Then you're not …..?"

"My name is Joshua Smith. We're a couple of drifters, looking for work."

"Oh, dear Lord, what have I done?" Martha resumed sobbing once more.

"Martha, listen to me. Is there anything we can do to help my friend?" Heyes glanced over his shoulder at the Kid, perturbed that there seemed to be no change in his condition. He was still breathing shallowly at least and his eyes were still open, blindly staring and unfocussed. Heyes went to his side. "We can start by making him more comfortable, I guess," he said as he went to pick up his partner, by putting his hands under the Kid's arms.

Just as he was about to haul the Kid off the floor Martha cried out, "No, don't move him!"

Heyes stopped what he was doing instantly and frowned at her. "Why not? Think he's been lain on the hard cold floor long enough, don't you?"

"Yes … I mean, no! Any movement could stress the heart and …." Her grey eyes met Heyes' dark ones and it was clear she was speaking the truth. Carefully, he lay the Kid back on the floor and took off his cord jacket, which he rolled up and placed under his friend's head.

"What do we do then, just wait and see if he … There must be something we can do, please Martha," Heyes asked plaintively. The sincerity and obvious concern this man showed, tore at her making her feel wretched. Biting her lip, she stood deep in thought for some minutes. Heyes talked to the Kid, trying to illicit a response. "How is it that as soon as you're on your own you always become a nuisance, huh? And why is it there's usually a woman involved? Sheesh, can't expect you to keep out of trouble for five minutes, can I?"

The Kid continued to breathe slowly and steadily, staring at his partner with trusting blue eyes, desperately trying to say something. Heyes flicked a look over his shoulder at Martha. "Well, thought of anything?" he asked, his tone hard.

"It might be worth a try," she said, hesitantly, looking towards the jars and bottles on the shelf. Heyes followed her gaze.

"You can't be thinking of giving him another one of your potions?" he said incredulously.

"Like you said, we could just sit and wait to see if his heart holds up or I could give it a little helping hand." Martha seemed to have recomposed herself now and she diligently set about looking through the assortment of containers. "See if you can get him to take some water," she called out as she continued her search.

Grateful to have something to do at last, which may be of use and couldn't possibly harm him, Heyes poured a cup of water from a pitcher on the table. Kneeling beside the Kid, he carefully raised his head a fraction and put the cup to his lips, tipping it carefully, saying. "Here, let's see if you can drink something."

As Heyes held him, he continued talking in a low voice. "Kid, d'you want to trust her? I don't know what else to do. Can't leave you like this. Pretty sure she thinks she made a mistake and doesn't know who we really are now," he concluded. He knew the Kid couldn't answer but he needed to talk to him. It felt right to talk to him. As the water touched the Kid's lips, it began to run down onto his chin. Heyes pressed the cup a little harder, parting the lips and dribbled the water into his mouth. At first it merely ran back out again but then the Kid's mouth widened slightly and the water ran into his throat and he swallowed.

A dimpled grin creased Heyes' face. "He swallowed some," he called back to Martha. "That's good, right?"

"Yes!" Martha sounded genuinely pleased. "He must be getting some feeling back." She turned her attention back to the powder she was grinding in a small, stone bowl.

Heyes tried a bit more water and the Kid managed to swallow again. "Easy now. We'll soon have this sorted," Heyes said with more confidence than he was feeling. It went against the grain to trust this woman but he didn't know what else to do. If he tried to get the Kid to town, the ride might kill him and even if he did get him there, he'd have some explaining to do as to why he was in this condition. His only option at this present moment was to trust Martha.

As these thoughts were running through his head, Martha appeared at his shoulder, a cup in her hand, which she proffered to him.

"What is it?" Heyes asked as he took it from her and sniffed it warily.

"It's made from tree bark. The Indians have used it for generations, mainly for hunting."

"Hunting?" Heyes was getting an uneasy feeling about this.

"In smaller animals it can cause instant death but in larger it has been known to be a stimulant. They have used it in their medicine to heal the sick." Martha's fingers wrapped a little more tightly about the cup.

"What does it do?" came the next apprehensive question.

"It stimulates the heart," Martha replied, then she took a breath before saying, " but if too much is taken it can cause the heart to beat too fast and …" She dropped her eyes away from Heyes' gaze.

"How much is too much?" Heyes was getting increasingly uncomfortable.

Martha did not reply at first, just stared at the liquid she had prepared in the cup. "I'm not sure. I've never used it for this purpose before."

"Now hold on a minute! You want to give my friend here something you've never used before? You've tried to kill him once today already!"

Martha, shocked at his blatancy, stared at him, mouth open, not quite knowing how to respond. Heyes glared back, uncertain what he should do for the best. This was something that he felt was completely out of his control, yet he couldn't sit around doing nothing. His partner, best friend and closest thing he had to family, was lying here, slowly dying and he felt helpless. His mind rushed through the options but each time it came back round to Martha.

Heyes' preoccupied thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a low groan. He instantly looked to the Kid and was shocked to see his pallor was grey and his lips were tinged with blue.

His partner's changed appearance shocked Heyes, taking him off guard for a moment as an involuntary, "Kid?" slipped out. At this moment he didn't care. Panic rose within him as the Kid struggled to breathe, mouth gaping, his eyes wide and staring.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" he pleaded in anguish. This was one situation where even a Hannibal Heyes plan would work.

"Don't you do this, damn you. Don't you give up, you hear?" he said, fighting the urge to shake the life back into the Kid.

"What do I do?" Heyes fretted, searching frantically for an answer. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Please, let me try," Martha said softly.

Heyes was a gambling man but the odds seemed stacked against him and Kid right now. Letting this woman near his partner seemed fool hardy enough, let alone allowing her to give him another one of her concoctions. In his desperation, Heyes could see no other option than to let her try, so moved to hold the Kid's head while Martha administered a couple of drops of the prepared mixture. She held the Kid's chin with her left index finger and thumb and squeezed his mouth open while Heyes tilted back his head. Next she let just three drops of the potion drip from a spoon onto the Kid's tongue, before pressing his mouth closed.

Heyes watched, transfixed in trepidation. Martha looked over at him, her own worry etched on her worn and tired face.

"We need to get him to his feet," she told Heyes.

"I thought you said he shouldn't be moved?"

"That was before. We need to get his heart pumping or it could be too much for him. If we get him to move then it'll get round his body quicker without straining his heart too much."

Martha said this with such conviction and authority it galvanised Heyes into action. Placing himself behind the Kid, putting his arms under his, he got into a squat position and then attempted to get to his feet. With a heave he struggled to stand, dragging the Kid's inert body with him, his back jolting as he did so. Heyes gasped, then gritted his teeth and hauled once again.

"Come on," Heyes groaned, under the weight, "give me some help here!" As his body came up to a more vertical position, the Kid let out a moan and his head lolled forward. Heyes shifted position, to get a better hold and felt himself stagger. The weight suddenly eased a little and he realised Martha was holding the Kid at the front.

"Here, let me get him this side while you hold him on the other," she instructed as she manoeuvred herself under the Kid's right arm. Heyes did the same on the left side. The Kid's head rolled back as they hoisted him up and he gasped.

"Easy now!" Heyes felt some measure of comfort in that at least the Kid was responding in some way, no matter how arbitrary. He and Martha dragged the Kid across the floor, his immobile legs only allowing his boots to scrape along the floor. Heyes chanced a glance across at Martha whose face was set with a grim determination.

"What do we do?" Heyes asked.

"We just keep on walking until he remembers how to!" she replied, through clenched teeth.

With the Kid's dead weight between them they paced, up and down, backwards and forwards within the constraints of the cabin. After some minutes of dragging the heavy weight between them, Heyes and Martha were exhausted. The Kid still hung limply between them but was still breathing, with intermittent moans.

"I need to rest!" gasped Martha, collapsing into a chair.

"Alright," Heyes replied, shifting the Kid's weight further onto his own shoulder before staggering to resume pacing.

Another five laps and the Kid groaned more audibly and Heyes noticed a movement. Taking a sideways glance, he saw a more determined expression on his partner's face and then heard the scrape of a boot on wood. With a great deal of effort on his part, the Kid had found some sensation in one of his legs and managed to make an attempt at a step forward.

Heartened by this action, Heyes spurred himself into motion, quickening the pace a little, talking incessantly, as he was prone to do, to his partner. "You know, you had me worried there for a while. I know you're not much of a talker sometimes but it was getting a mite lonely round here! Next time you fancy taking such a long nap after a meal, would you mind warning me?"

A small snort emitted from the incapacitated man hanging from his arm.

"A couple more times round this table and you'll be feeling just fine, you wait and see," Heyes continued with false joviality, eliciting another grunt from his partner.

The Kid's heart still felt that it was going to burst out of his chest, his breath was short and sharp but the pain was not so intense.

Slowly, step by step, the Kid's limbs regained some measure of feeling. At first it felt as if they were made of string with weights attached to the ends. It took all his concentration to make the smallest of movements but, with Heyes resolute assistance, he began to make some progress and his legs began to move more easily on command.

By the time they had lapped the table, some twenty times, the Kid was able to lift each leg independently but still relied on his partner to take his weight and support him. Heyes continued his running commentary, although the words were intermitted with deep breaths and sighs, as he became increasingly exhausted by his effort.

Almost half hour of continual pacing had passed when the Kid uttered, "Enough!"

A look of delight spread across Heyes' face as his partner spoke. More than once that day he had thought he might never hear him speak again.

"Sure! We'll take a break," Heyes told him as he guided the Kid towards a bunk. Martha bustled forward and placed the thin wad that served as her pillow against the wall for the Kid to lean back on. Heyes lowered him onto the thin mattress, the Kid closing his eyes in relief as he sank down.

"Hey! You alright?" Heyes asked anxiously.

"Yeah," the Kid groaned.

Martha appeared with some water and handed it to Heyes before scurrying away. The shame of what she had done weighed heavily on her. Having seen how much the dark haired man had cared for his friend, she was convinced she had made a mistake. It seemed inconceivable that two hardened outlaws, such as Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, would act as these two men had done. She watched as Joshua Smith carefully raised Thaddeus Jones' head and held the cup for him to drink, then eased his head down before covering him with one of her worn, grey blankets.

Heyes watched the Kid, his concern plainly showing on his face, as his partner's eyes drifted closed. He stood watching for a few more moments, as the even, steady breaths kept coming. With a small nod of satisfaction he turned to Martha and smiled.

"He's resting,"

She nodded, blushing slightly in her embarrassment. Heyes' expression hardened as the irony of the situation suddenly dawned. He was trying to placate the woman who had tried to take his partner's life!

With a glance over his shoulder, at his slumbering friend, Heyes turned his attention back to the woman. The dark intensity of his stare unnerved her .

"What makes you want to do that to someone, Martha?"

The woman was taken aback by the abruptness of the question and shifted uncomfortably. "Even if he was Kid Curry, which he ain't, no one deserves what you did to Thaddeus, especially as he's never done nothing to you, has he?"

Martha did not answer but swallowed, averting her eyes from his gaze. When he did not get a response, Heyes persisted.

"He done anything to you? Has Kid Curry ever done anything to you? Yet, you take it upon yourself to treat him so maliciously? Why'd you do it, Martha?" Heyes was genuinely intrigued to know what could drive someone to such measures.

Finally she spoke. "It was a way out," came her unsatisfactory response.

"A way out of what? You've got a comfortable home her. I can see it's not the grandest of places but it's a home, something me and Thaddeus haven't had in a long time. Seems to me you've got a lot more to be grateful for than you realise!"

"You wouldn't understand," she suddenly snapped. "I sure as hell don't understand! That's what I'm trying to figure out here!" Heyes exploded.

The sound of Heyes' raised voice disturbed the Kid who instinctively reacted to support his partner. He was still in a weakened state and could only manage to open his eyes and shift position slightly.

"Heyes?" he groaned.

At the use of his real name, Heyes instantly retorted, "Hey, yourself!" trying to cover the Kid's slip. Fortunately Martha had not seemed to hear as she was lost in her own thoughts.

Heyes went to reassure his partner that all was well. "Take it easy, Thaddeus," he stressed. "Try and get some rest."

A pair of weary blue eyes looked up at him. In a voice, little more than a whisper, the Kid asked, "What happened ?"

"You ate something that didn't agree with you!" Heyes retorted lightly, a sympathetic smile creasing his face.

"Oh!" the Kid mumbled, his eyelids becoming heavy and slipping closed, trusting his partner had the situation in hand. Heyes became aware that Martha had moved closer and he flicked a watchful look in her direction. She stood gazing down at the man now sleeping on her bunk. Heyes stepped between her and the Kid protectively and she returned a hurt expression.

"I only wanted to check he was okay," she said apologetically.

Heyes folded his arms across his chest in mute reply.

"I don't know how I ever thought he was a gunslinger like Kid Curry," she said softly. "I was so sure at first but he was so polite and …." Tears welled in the woman's eyes. "I'm so sorry! I made a terrible mistake!"

"No denying that, Ma'am," Heyes replied, running his hand through his hair and suddenly looking very tired. "Is there any chance of some coffee?"

"Huh? Coffee? Why, I might have some somewhere. My husband used to …" Her trailing words hung in the air and Heyes gave her a questioning look.

Martha turned from his enquiring gaze and began rummaging in a cupboard.

"What happened to your husband, Martha?" Heyes had a very good idea of the answer but wasn't sure he wanted to be right.

"Ah! Here it is!" Martha chose to ignore the question, pulling out a bag of coffee beans.

"Did you do to him what you did to Thaddeus?" Heyes persisted.

Martha kept her back to him while she filled the coffee pot with water and put it onto heat.

"Was he the one you said you gave the mushrooms to and it only took minutes? Why'd you do something like that, Martha? Was he that bad a man?" Heyes rested his hands on the back of a chair and stared at the woman's back.

Eventually she turned to face him. "Reuben Tate was a liar. He got me to come out here under false pretenses. He told me he owned a ranch! A ranch! Take a look around, Mr. Smith. Would you call this a ranch?" her words laced with resentment.

"Still doesn't mean the man deserved killing," came Heyes flat reply.

"No, I guess it don't," she said resignedly, "but he was a cruel and vicious man. I couldn't take much more and desperation makes you do desperate things. It was the only way I could see out."

"You could have just left him," Heyes said coldly. "Believe me, Martha, I've been desperate a few times in my life but I could never do to someone what you did to my partner."

This time Martha did not retort but grimly poured them both a cup of weak coffee. After replacing the pot on the stove she slumped onto a chair, rested her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands. Heyes pulled out the other chair and sat down also, at the other end of the table and waited, cradling his coffee in his hands.

Some minutes later, Martha dropped her hands onto the table, linking her fingers, not raising her head to look at Heyes to speak. "I was brought up in Denver. My father owned a hardware store and we were well provided for - until he became ill. I met Reuben Tate one Fall, at a dance and I suppose it could be said he swept me off my feet. Things had not been good at home for some time. My father's illness was a great burden to my mother, so when Reuben asked me to marry him, after just three days and come and live at his ranch, it seemed perfect."

Martha took a sip of her coffee, wincing at the taste. Heyes remained silent, letting the woman tell her story.

"My mother was very unhappy with my leaving but I was determined to go. I caught the train all on my own. It was a wonderful feeling at first and such an adventure, especially when the train was held up by the Devil's Hole Gang! That's when I saw him - Kid Curry. I got a glimpse of him as he moved passengers off the train. I was so convinced that your friend was him … I'm so sorry." Martha's face disappeared into her hands once again and for a fleeting moment Heyes felt a pang of guilt - until he remembered what this woman had done to the Kid.

"So, what happened when you came here and married Mr. Tate? If this place was such a disappointment to you, why'd you marry him?"

"He'd arranged the wedding for as soon as I reached Bedlington. He knew I'd be unhappy with his circumstances but he needed a wife and I had been the first one stupid enough to accept his proposal. I found out since that he'd made the same offer to a number of women in the town who had all refused him. It was one of his reasons for coming to Denver - to find a wife."

Martha's frustration and sadness was evident in her words, making Heyes have some measure of sympathy for the woman. However, it did not alter the fact that she was a cold-blooded murderer, a trait that Heyes despised. He understood that sometimes killing was unavoidable and inevitable, especially in his previous chosen career but that did not mean it sat well with him. His own partner had taken life but only when forced to do so and Heyes had seen the repercussions and the effect it had on the Kid, from making him physically sick to withdrawing completely inside himself for days on end. The Kid had found his way of dealing with it, something Heyes wasn't sure he'd ever be able to do. The effect of seeing his murdered family at such a young age, still stayed with him although, he frequently hid it well. To take a man's life for monetary gain was beyond his comprehension, especially for a woman.

A groan from the bunk brought him from his melancholic reverie, as the Kid began to stir. Heyes gave Martha a defiant, superior look before rising from the table and going to his partner.

"How you feelin'?" he asked.

Kid Curry considered the question for a few moments, none too sure of the answer. "Pretty tired, I guess," he replied, trying to push himself into a more upright position. Seeing the difficulty he was having, Heyes placed a hand beneath the Kid's arm and helped ease him forward. The Kid gave him a grateful smile.

He still looked pale and drained of energy but this did not stop Heyes asking, "You think you can sit a horse?"

The Kid's eyes drifted across the woman sat at the table, anxiously watching them.

"Just get me out of here!" was the blunt and determined response. Heyes nodded in understanding, keen to be away from this place too.

Using Heyes' arm for support, the Kid struggled to his feet, swaying a little as he got fully upright, Heyes watching him closely, all the while.

When the Kid was finally stood on his own two feet, Heyes asked, "Alright?" and received a curt dip of the head in reply.

Steadying his partner, by holding his elbow, Heyes turned and reached for the Kid's hat from the table and handed it to him. Next he took the gun out of his own gun belt and slipped it back into its holster. The Kid's hand instinctively reached down and he wrapped his fingers about the well-used butt, giving a small nod of satisfaction.

With his hand gently resting on the small of the Kid's back, Heyes guided his unsteady partner towards the door, scooping up his own hat from the table, placing it on his head. Without a word they began to make their way out.

"Wait!" Martha called out. "You just going to up and leave like that? I mean, what are you going to do? Are you going to go to the sheriff?" Her fear was evident in her voice and they did not need to look at her to know it. They just kept walking, if a little shakily in the Kid's case. When they got outside the Kid paused and lifted his head to the last rays of the evening sun, before it dipped below the tree line, reveling in the feel of its warmth on his face.

"You okay if I leave you here to go get the horses?" Heyes asked.

Drawing a deep breath of fresh air, the Kid looked at his anxious partner and gave him a warm smile of reassurance.

"I'll be fine."

As Heyes made his way to the outbuilding to collect the horses, the Kid became aware of Martha standing silently behind him. Keeping his gaze in the direction of his partner, he chose to ignore her. The hush was excruciating but the Kid could think of nothing to say to this woman at this moment.

Eventually she broke the silence. "Mr. Jones? I'm so sorry. I truly am."

Still, the Kid could think of no words to compound how he was feeling. This woman's cabin had promised to be his tomb, by her own callous hand.

He simply replied, "Yes, Ma'am!" to which she could find no suitable response.

An agonising minute or two later Heyes returned with the horses, his eyes fixed on the two figures, as he approached, the Kid leaning on a post for support and a fretful Martha, wringing her hands. She watched anxiously as Heyes helped the Kid down the steps and on to his horse.

When Heyes too was mounted on his horse, Martha spoke up. "Mr. Smith? Will you be going straight to the sheriff? Only I'd like to get a few things straight before I have to leave," she said solemnly.

Heyes pondered a moment, casting a cursory glance at his partner, although he knew they both were aware of the answer.

"No, Ma'am, I don't believe we will," he replied before wheeling his horse round to follow the Kid up the track from Martha's cabin.

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They had be riding for a good ten minutes before either of them spoke. The Kid resolutely held on to the horn of his saddle, grim determination keeping his exhausted body on the horse, while Heyes rode a stride or two behind, watching him carefully.

"Heyes?"

Heyes instantly pushed his horse alongside his partner's, his face etched with concern.

"Yeah? What is it? You okay?"

"I'm fine," the Kid reassured him, although he wasn't fully convinced of this himself, at this point. "We ain't going to tell the sheriff are we?" he added.

"No, don't think we can, Kid," Heyes replied. "He'll start asking questions, why she thought you were Kid Curry an' all. Even if we did manage to convince the sheriff we were Smith and Jones, there'd be a trial and we can't go to court. Nope, I guess we've just gotta leave Martha to her own fate," he finished resignedly.

Both riders slumped into silence once more, letting the horses pick their way back along the trail. They'd soon be back in town but knew they wouldn't be able to stay. It was just too risky. Heyes hoped Kid would be up to moving on so soon. He still looked pale and dark about the eyes but seemed to be holding his own, for now.

"We ain't safe anywhere, from anyone, with those prices on our heads, are we, Heyes?" The Kid's question took Heyes by surprise and was said with a conviction and resolution that told his partner that it was a rhetorical one.

Heyes wanted to assure him that he was wrong but the truth of the matter was that it was a fair assessment of their situation. Everywhere they went they ran the risk of being recognised and greed over-riding human decency, making someone want to turn them in for the reward. They had been trying for the amnesty for nearly two years now and there were times when Heyes gave up hope of it ever happening but there was one thing that kept him trying, something that he would never give up on and that was his partner. As he looked across at Kid now, disillusion clear in his face, Heyes felt that time was running out for both of them as, sooner or later, another Martha or bounty hunter would come along and perhaps next time, they wouldn't be so lucky.

His resolve strengthened, he made a decision. It was time to visit Lom Trevors.

"Hey, Kid, how does a hot bath and a nice steak dinner sound to you? Think we should get a good night's rest and head out first thing tomorrow. Whaddya reckon?" he said with an encouraging smile.

"The bath and an early night sounds good, Heyes. Think I'll pass on the food though!" the Kid replied wryly.

"Yeah, perhaps that would be wise," Heyes agreed, pursing his lips in mock consideration. The glow of lights shone the gloom of the evening, showing them they were nearing Bedlington.

Heyes' expression clouded and his mood darkened as they approached the town … and people. In a more serious tone he said, "Kid, we ain't going to let this beat us, not now we've got this far. We'll get the amnesty. You know I'll always be there to watch your back, don't you? "

"I know, Heyes. You've always been there and I 'ppreciate it. You know I'll do the same for you, it's just that some days it's harder than others," the Kid replied, giving him a somnolent smile.

Suddenly the Kid roused himself and looked at Heyes enquiringly.

"Talking of backs, how's yours?"

"Oh! You know I'd forgotten all about it with all that was going on. I guess it's better! Last time I remember it hurting was …." He paused to think for a second, "Must have been just before I kicked that door in! Hey, guess you could say Martha did some good after all - she fixed my back!"

The Kid managed to laugh now. Trust Heyes to find a positive in the mess that had been their day. That ability to look adversity in the eye, with good humour and keep going was what had made them so successful for so long and they would carry on for a good while yet, if they stayed together.

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Author's note: Some research was undertaken for the writing of this story and where as some plants do have the properties described, my knowledge is limited. However, this is Fan fiction and he is Kid Curry! 


End file.
